


Beautiful strange

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, First Time, First Times, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Not!Fic, Podfic Available, Pre-X Factor, deliberately vague sexual references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first guy Louis sleeps with is nameless.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful strange

**Author's Note:**

> Idek, it's half 1 in the morning and I have a lot of feels, OK?

The first guy Louis sleeps with is nameless.  


He’s nothing but a face at a party, all big fringe and big muscles and big ego, and Louis catches himself staring more than he should. Stan notices, laughs under his breath, whispers, ‘go get that, Tommo’. So Louis does, even though he’s never done this, doesn’t know how, and though he won’t admit it, he’s scared out of his wits.  


The guy doesn’t seem to mind.  


His smile is too big and white, and his laugh is too harsh in Louis’ ear, and when they finally reach a bedroom – God knows whose – his hands are too rough as they make their presence known along the contours of Louis’ body. Even without looking, Louis knows that they are marking him, leaving a red, guilty trail that he will not want to see come morning. He bites his lip, and says nothing, and says nothing.  


The guy does not notice.  


His breath sticks to Louis’ inner thigh, as do his words, but Louis isn’t listening anyway. He was certain he’d prepared himself for this, has had enough practise in the name of experimentation. He was wrong.  


The guy is huge.  


It turns out pleasure does not always outweigh pain.  


It is shit, and Louis is shit, but he does not tell Stan that when he asks, ‘how’d it go’, syllables slipping over each other, words swimming in alcohol. He just shrugs, because this is Stan who knows how to have sex with guys, and he is Louis, who doesn’t. Evidently.  


Despite everything, he finds himself thinking, ‘I want to try again’.  


He does not call the guy back.  


*  


The second guy Louis sleeps with is Stan.  


There is alcohol, too much of it, spilled over the living room carpet, and Louis thinks, ‘someone will have to clean that up’. But it does not matter because Stan’s lips are up against his, and Louis is trapped by his hips and his desperation. Louis did not see this coming, even though he should have done, even though Stan has always been too close for comfort and too heavily involved and too wandering hands and eyes.  


Stan does not do subtle.  


Louis decides he’s ok with that, somewhere in between the hallway and the bedroom. Decides he doesn’t mind the fumbled removal of clothing, or the clashing of teeth, or the whispered promises against flushed skin. Stan says, ‘don’t tell’, and Louis says, ‘yes’. And he doesn’t mind.  


Stan would stop if he did, though.  


Probably.  


There is fire this time, starting with the burn of every push and twist and thrust, ending with the electricity in his veins. Dangerous and alive. The pain is alight, but so is the pleasure, burning together to consume everything and leave only scattered ashes.  


Stan passes out afterwards.  


A little bit of Louis wants to wake him, to ask if he was shit or not. But he does not want to hear the answer. Nor does he want to litter his night with more drunken debris, the room already desecrated with the ruins of inebriated memories. He does not know what he would say.  


In the heavy silence of a heartbeat, he thinks, ‘I want this again’.  


They don’t speak of it the next day.  


*  


The third guy Louis sleeps with is Harry.  


It is different than the other times because Harry is not nameless, is not forgettable, is not a mistake. Harry is Louis’ friend, possibly his best friend, and this is not spur of the moment – or, at least, not compared to the first two times. This is months in the making, this is the escalation of shy kisses and longing glances, this is the culmination of every hand down the front of trousers and knees going numb against the bathroom floor. For Louis’ standards, this is practically planned.  


Harry lets Louis make the first move,  


Harry is not fringe and muscles, or forceful and hasty. He is matted curls beaded with sweat, and a mess of outstretched limbs. He is soft, desperate pleas and back arching away from the mattress in a contortion of ecstasy. He is wanting and asking and blushing and beautiful uncertainty.  


Harry talks little, but says a lot.  


He makes noises that Louis didn’t know humans were actually capable of, mewls and whimpers and sometimes Louis isn’t sure what means good and what means stop. So he stops every time, and feels Harry adjust, feels his breathing and the rapid gunfire of his heart where Louis’ hand is pressed to his chest. When Harry relaxes, Louis feels himself do too.  


Harry cries, and then tries to hide it.  


Louis wipes away the tears, thinks about calling it quits.  


Harry does not let him.  


So Louis persists, being gentle and careful and sweet and loving and everything his own first time was not. Because this is Harry’s first time, this is _their_ first time, and it has to be special or else what’s the point. And he’s not sure if he deserves this, a large part of him reckons Harry’s too precious for Louis to have this handed to him so easily, and he still reckons he’s probably shit.  


But he finds himself thinking, ‘I want you again’.  


The best part is when he catches Harry thinking it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Podfic now available [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/786909)


End file.
